#enemies to lovers

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your characters like this

[bugbear55]

i can’t believe im about to say this

Poseidon x Odysseus

its very believable, actually

[chleem]

Flashing lights #1

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter two out soon! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Late February 2024

Is that five, or six bottles in front of you? 

Your vision is burry, head feeling twisted, and your limbs feel as if they weight a hundred kilograms each. “Shit,” you curse, your hands reaching over to your bag. 

In attempt to reach it without standing up, you fall, and you laugh. Alcohol was able to make that fall feel painless. Getting up however, felt like the hardest task ever, but you manage, and you rummage through your bag for your pack of cigarettes. 

You find it; but no cigarettes to be found in it. 

“Fuck!” You yell, throwing your empty pack across the trailer. Good thing your makeup staffs gone, and no one to see your about-to-erupt tantrum. Reaching for your phone, you call your manager, Laura, only for it to go straight to voicemail. Wow. What are managers even for? 

Gotta do everything by yourself. You throw your phone onto the couch, and walk out of your trailer. You didn’t care whether anyone saw you; you just cared about getting a smoke. 

The afternoon sun is blinding to you, the effects of alcohol making it even more unbearable. Is there a convenience store around? Fuck, maybe you should just ask the staff for a smoke. 

You keep walking along the other trailers, feeling some eyes on you. Well, usually at a filming set everyone is busy with their own business, but you’re Y/n. You grab attention by simply breathing. Others might love it, but growing up in showbiz, you just wish to get away from it. Even if just for a second, you would love to be an invisible person. 

You keep walking, hoping to spot anyone with a cigarette in their hands. But your legs beg to stop, and you feel extra dizzy when you bump into a hard…wall? Well, it was hard, but soft at the same time. 

Warm hands wrap around your waist just as you’re ready to fall onto the ground. Even your drunken state knows that you should be clinging onto something if you’re about to fall, and in this case, you were holding onto the person’s biceps. 

You look up, feeling as if this person was 200 centimeters. Shit. He’s tall. 

His hat is low, but you could see blue circles staring down at you, and although his face was attractive, his expression was mean. As if wanting to murder you. Well, he probably does, since a stranger fell into him. 

“You-“

His cologne hits you, and the urge to throw up hits. 

Vomit splatters on his entire shirt, and just like that, you pass out, still in his arms. 

——

Woah. Even getting up slowly triggers the muscles in your brain. 

You blink a few times, adjusting to the lights in your trailer. What time was it? Did you already finish filming? A million questions enter your head as you look around you, and you notice the five large empty liquor bottles on the table. 

Right. No memory whatsoever. 

A wet towel is on your forehead. Weird, you think, as you throw it to the side. 

But then you hear the trailer’s bathroom door open, and you immediately feel uneasy. Who the fuck could be in here other than you? 

The stranger walks out, and he’s half naked. 

And attractive. 

But he’s half naked! 

You quickly check yourself, and yes, you’re still in your clothes. 

“Who… who the fuck are you?” You say, feeling really unsafe right now. You had no gun, no weapon of any kind, and you were terrified. This stranger was extremely fit and tall, and he was standing just a few feet away from you. 

He’s staring at you with his blue eyes, and honestly, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he gonna kill you? Rape you? 

“You have no idea who I am?”

“Yes, you fucking creep. Get out of my trailer before I yell,” you threaten. 

His eyebrows furrow as if you were in the wrong, and he crosses his arms, leaning against your vanity across from you. Woah. His arms. It looks very delicious-

What. “Seriously. Get the fuck out,” you point over to your trailer door. 

He throws his head back, an annoyed groan escaping him. 

What’s his problem? You think, eyebrows furrowed. Okay. That uneasiness, has transformed into anger. “Fuck- get the fuck out, your weirdo. I’m…you know what, I’m calling the fucking cops.”

You look around for your phone, but see it charging on the vanity beside him. 

“Drew Starkey,” he finally says, and you look at him, confusingly. Never in your life have you ever heard that name. Were you even suppose to remember or know this person? He groans again, not even hiding his annoyance at you. “Wow. You’re such a bitch, you know that?”

The audacity- “you’re in my fucking trailer right now. You’re in the faults here. You can’t come in half naked, and act annoyed at me. You fucking cunt-“

The door to your trailer opens, and you squint at the light coming in. 

It was your manager Laura, and she’s holding a bottle of water, a pack of cigarettes, and a folded t-shirt. 

“Laura! A fucking pervert in my trailer-“

“Here you go, Drew. Again, so sorry,” Laura ignores you, handing the man, who apparently, is called Drew, the clean t-shirt. The name he just told you, it was his name? Why did he act so offended earlier, when he said it? Is he like some kind of, celebrity? Impossible; you've met almost all the top actors in showbiz, you would've known him.

“What the fuck,” you voice out, chuckling to get the anger and confusion out of you. You watch as the stranger puts the shirt on, enjoying the way his muscles flex and relaxes is… kind of arousing. But you pull away, feeling embarrassed and egoistic to admit you’re attracted to this rude stranger. 

Laura comes near you, placing the cigarettes and water on the table and sniffs you. “Yeah, you’re still a bit tipsy,” she comments, before grabbing perfume and mints from your bag and sitting down. “Can you still film?”

“What time is it?” You ask, while grabbing the pack and lighting a cigarette up. You breathe it in, and smoke out, immediately feeling more relaxed and in your element. 

“4:20.”

“What time was I suppose to be there?” You giggle, breathing in your cigarette. Oh, it felt so good to smoke. All the energy booster you needed. 

“2:30,” Laura says, sighing. 

“Oh shit,” you laugh, putting the cigarette between your lips. You forcefully spray the perfume on you, knowing the cigarette is probably going to cover the smell anyways. You take another blow of the cigarette, before putting it into Laura’s mouth. She groans angrily at you, and you just chuckle, looking over to the stranger now. He’s not shirtless anymore, and has a hat on. He’s staring at you, with a mean expression now. “What are you still doing here?” You rudely state. 

“Y/n, he’s gonna be here for a long time,” Laura replies instead, and you turn around to her. You look at her with furrowed eyebrows, confused by what she meant. Laura also stares at you with an amused expression. “What, you guys didn't talk?”

You frustratedly throw your arms around and stomp your foot. “What am I supposed to talk about to a half naked guy in my trailer? Laura, use your fucking brain.” 

You turn around and the stranger is now sitting on the couch. You ignore him, turning back to Laura. “Is he my new manager or something? Laura, who the fuck is this?”

“Drew Starkey. You honestly don’t remember him?”

“Am I suppose to?” You reply, reaching for the pack of cigarettes, hoping to bring it with you to set. But ‘Drew’ stops you, his hand, which is surprisingly very warm, wraps around your wrist to stop you. You glare at him, telling him with your eyes to get his hands off you. But he doesn’t. So you verbally express it to him. “Get your fucking hand off me or I’ll chop it off for you.”

“You can’t even walk in a straight line, Y/n.”

Annoyed, you yell, “Get your fucking hand off me."

He does, but he quickly grabs the pack out of your reach, stuffing it into his pocket. Wow. What a jackass. And who is he to care? To take away your stuff? You pray that he gets explosive diarrhea the whole day tomorrow. This asshole deserves it. 

“Whatever,” you say, walking over to the door of your trailer. And he’s right, because you trip over yourself on the way there. You laugh under your breath out of frustration and embarrassment, and turn back around, pointing at ‘Drew’ and looking at Laura. “Get this jackass out my trailer. I don’t care what he is, he better be out of my sight.”

You don’t even bother hearing what her response is, and you leave towards your set. Now, you’re in a worse mood than before. All thanks to the stranger named Drew.

——

Everyone knew you were a good actor. You’re one of the best. And to make it even more astonishing, you’re only 25 years old. Meaning, your acting could get better. But it’s already the best of the best. Maybe its your pure gift, or maybe because you’ve been doing this since you were 13. Either way, you were a fucking good actor. 

The director specifically appointed you to star in his film, which is about the world coming to an end. Director Ravens was quite famous in showbiz, so who were you to decline? Besides, your co-star was Hugh Jackman, a brilliant actor, who you've also grown to admire while filming. 

Your character was a girl in her twenties, who had fallen in love with a stranger despite knowing that the world was getting destroyed within a week. A tragic love story, yet it was beautiful. 

This scene, is your solo one. Your character finds out her brother is dead, and cries with feelings of sadness, regret, and happiness. It’s a scene that would be hard to portray, but you do it well. 

Although you were almost three hours late to set, you make up for it with your acting. One take and the director informs you that it's perfect. And no one disagrees, and the complaints about your tardiness disappears, once they rewatch the scene. You must still be tipsy, because you swear you saw some of the staff shed a tear. 

You don’t offer to watch or reshot the scene, since you wanted to be out of here as soon as possible. But director Ravens insists on another one, hoping to get it from another angle. And you do as he pleases, since, well, he’s the director. 

Wow. One of the most important scenes in the movie only took you twenty minutes to film. 

Director Ravens gives you a break before the next scene, and you walk off before he wants to give you compliments. You didn’t need to hear what you already knew. 

But as you walk over to your seat, someone already occupies it. Drew. 

“You’re still here?” You scoff, crossing your arms. 

You want to rip his blue eyes out to get him to stop staring at you. Why does he like to stare at you so much? 

He pulls a random chair close to him, perhaps wanting you to sit. “Wow. So you can remember faces.”

“Yeah, if they’re as ugly as you,” you lie, because, his face is so damn attractive, that you can’t forget it even if you wanted to. You sit down on the chair, looking ahead of you. “I thought I said I want you out of my sight?”

“You can’t decide that,” he replies. “Who are you to order me around?”

“And who are you to sit in my chair? If anything, you should be kissing my ass right now.”

“Why should I?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?” You scoff. “Look around; that’s what everyone else is doing.”

On cue, a staff member hands you a bottle of water, and you take it without saying thanks. 

“And they’re fucking idiots,” Drew says, and you turn to look at him. He’s still staring at you! Crazy. 

“Shut up. As if you didn’t enjoy the show,” you say, referring to your acting just then.

“I did.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, “good thing you’re not an actor. You’re horrible at lying.”

“I am.”

‘’What? A liar?”

“No; I’m an actor.”

The fuck? Suddenly, a different staff member interrupts the conversation, a girl holding her phone out to the both of you.

“Can I take a selfie with you?” She shyly asks. 

Of course it’s directed to you, so you simply reject her. “Sorry, but-“

“Yeah, sure.”

Your jaw is probably on the floor right now. The girl wasn’t asking you; she was asking Drew. He stands up and takes a selfie with her, and then hugs her goodbye. 

So… he’s famous? No way, because you’ve never heard of him you entire life. Probably a newbie that got famous by luck. 

You look away from him once he sits down, embarrassed to even face him. You just thought he was some staff member that the company had assigned to serve you. But he’s actually an actor? 

“You were saying?” His deep voice interrupts your thoughts, and you feel your ears go red. Holy shit. You need a smoke real bad right now. Fuck that, you need some liquor in you right this instant. 

Director Ravens saves you, yelling that its time for the next scene. So, you hurry and throw the water bottle at Drew, who catches it as though he’s not surprised at all. 

And he smirks, lifting his hat a bit as if to get a better look up at you. “What’s this for?”

Flustered, you walk off without another look back, partly embarrassed and angry. And you busy yourself with getting into the emotions of the character, and soon, Drew is forgotten as if he never existed. 

-------------------------------

word count: 2.3k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: so...what's your impression of y/n so far?

hope you enjoyed chapter one, i had a blast writing this...although, chapter four was the funniest one yet. btw, i am not joking when i wrote slow burn in the warnings, so pls be patient! and i setted this story to start in february, to match the time of real life events. other than that, rest are fictional!

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

love it when two characters are sworn enemies who have tried to kill each other, but at the same time they can't live without each other, and they don't know they can't live without each other until one of them (almost) dies saving the other, and that's when the other realizes — as their sworn enemy is dying in their arms — that they can't live without them, that's when the dying character realizes they don't have to think twice about sacrificing themself for their archenemy, they'd do it again. because they can't live without each other.

— prompt taken from this fic, feel free to check it out for some whumpy enemies to lovers fic with this prompt :)

[hazyki]

☆ lights out. ☆

pairing -> dancer!riki x dancer!gn reader

genre → enemies to lovers, fluff, mild angst (they have a little fight), an attempt at humour

word count → 4.5k

synopsis → after a power outage during a storm, you and riki are stuck in the dance studio together

warnings → very very slight profanity

extra→ jay and heeseung cameo at the end :)

Nishimura Riki.

2005 liner, Japanese-born and raised, 183 centimeters tall, and one of the best dancers you’d ever seen.

You hated him.

It wasn’t a surface level hatred, either. It was that deep, gnawing kind that crept up your spine every time he walked into the studio with that stupid infuriatingly perfect posture, head held high like he owned the place. It didn’t help that he actually kind of did.

Riki was always the best in the room, no matter where you were. Dance practice, competitions, even the casual workshops you’d attended; he was there, always a step ahead, always landing the moves with a flawless ease that made your blood boil. Every pirouette, every sharp turn, every damn leap seemed to come to him naturally, like the universe itself conspired to make him perfect. And the worst part? He knew it.

There was something about the way he moved that felt like he was challenging you, as if he was daring you to try and keep up. You always did. Or at least, you’d try; but every time it felt like you were falling just a hair short. Every mistake you made, every moment where your timing was slightly off or your footwork simply wasn’t sharp enough, he’d catch it. He would pester you about even the smallest details, plaguing you with advice you didn’t need. You’d always respond passively, attempting (though failing) to keep in your scowl when you’d realize how helpful his advice truly was. You hated it. Because upon seeing you improve, he’d give you that smug, cocky smirk, eyes barely flicking in your direction like he didn’t even need to try. Like he was just naturally better.

You despised it. Despised him.

So when the two of you got paired up for this competition, it was like some cruel joke the universe was playing on you. Of all the people they could’ve chosen, it had to be him. Soon enough you’d have to be on stage with hundreds of people with him by your side, demonstrating the stark difference in moves. You’re a good dancer; you know it. But next to him, you might as well quit.

Now after weeks of grueling rehearsals, late nights, sore muscles, and frustration simmering beneath the surface, you were stuck here with him, in an empty studio, after the final run through.

"Okay, from the top." Riki exclaimed through labored breaths, his hand doing impatient circles in the air, not even giving you a second to catch your own.

You stood there, hands braced on your knees, your chest heaving as sweat dripped down your forehead and splattered onto the floor. You stared at him, bewildered. Was he serious?

“Again?” Your voice came out steady, but it was laced with resentment, the weight of your frustration compressed into that one simple word. You tried not to let it show or make the thick tension in the air even worse than it already was.

Riki didn’t bother responding. He simply grabbed his towel from the front of the room, wiping the sweat off his face before tossing it aside and walking back to the center of the studio. He didn’t even look at you, just moved into position, waiting for you to follow like this was all some sort of routine for him.

But you couldn’t. You didn’t. You just stood there, staring at him, still trying to process how he could possibly have the energy to keep going. When it became clear you weren’t moving, he finally let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes like you were the one being unreasonable.

God, you hated him.

The studio felt unbearably hot, humid, and suffocating. It had to be nearing midnight, hours after the others had left. You couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore because Riki, in his obsessive need to stay focused, had insisted on leaving your phones outside so there’d be no distractions. The fatigue in your limbs weighed you down, but it wasn’t just the exhaustion from hours of dancing. It was him.

"Yes, again." He said, his eyes narrowing as he glared at you, stepping forward and tapping your shoulder lightly to break your daze. "We have to win. No matter what. So get it together."

You felt the anger flare up inside you, hot and immediate. “May not be as determined as you?” you scoffed. Oh, how typical of him. Like he was the only one who wanted this. Like his sleepless nights and relentless drive made him superior to everyone else. You crossed your arms, standing your ground. “You really think that, don’t you? Just because I’m not willing to drive myself into the ground doesn’t mean I’m not determined. Unlike you, I still care about being able to walk.”

He scoffed right back, the tension between you two rising with every word. "Yeah, well, if you were me, maybe you’d understand what it takes. But you’re not, and that’s the difference between us. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. You just— aren’t."

You both stared each other down through the reflection in the studio mirrors. His usual straight posture was slouched, shoulders sagging, and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. You knew he was just as exhausted as you, but still he was pushing both himself and you harder than ever. It was insane, but it was Riki. He didn’t know when to stop.

Finally, he broke the silence as he grabbed his water bottle. He tossed yours across the room without a word, and you caught it without thinking. "I need to win this," he said, unscrewing the lid and downing a few gulps. "And if that means practicing until my body gives out, then so be it. If you want to leave so badly, then go."

"We’re supposed to be a team, Riki," you snapped, your voice rising despite yourself. "This isn’t just about you. You can't practice by yourself and expect us to come together perfectly when it matters. They’ll see our differences, our lack of cooperation, and we’ll lose. Is that what you want?”

He scoffed at your attempt to reason with him, clearly unimpressed. “Oh please. Are you seriously trying to scare me into agreeing with you? Just admit it ; you’re too lazy to keep up.”

That was it. “Lazy? Are you fucking kidding me?” You clenched your fists, feeling your temper snap. "We’ve been here for hours. Hours, Riki. Everyone else left ages ago, and you’re still pushing us like we have no limits. What the hell is wrong with you? Is it not enough?"

His eyes were sharp as they locked onto yours, full of defiance. "So what, you’re saying we should just be like the others? You’re fine with being average when the competition comes? With being the same as everyone else?"

You could feel the fury bubbling up, barely contained. "That’s not what I meant, and you know it. If I were okay with being average, I wouldn’t still be here with you. But this? This is insane. We’ve been here for six hours. Six hours. And we can’t even check the time because of your stupid ‘no distractions’ rule. You’re running yourself into the ground. Are you not tired? Do you even like dancing? Because I'm starting to feel like you're treating this as a chore rather than a passion.”

The storm outside had gone unnoticed by either of you as it intensified, rain slamming against the windows in a relentless downpour. Thunder cracked loudly, rumbling through the building, but it was the least of your concerns. You were both too far gone into the argument to care about anything else.

“Six hours is nothing,” he spat, voice rising again. "Just admit it. you’re too lazy to—"

Flick.

Suddenlythe lights went out, bringing the studio into darkness. You both froze, the only source of light now the faint glow of the emergency exit sign. For a moment the only sound was the pounding rain outside and the ragged breaths you both were taking.

The tension was uncomfortable, and now as you were trapped in the darkness with him, it somehow felt worse. You could barely make out Riki’s silhouette, standing across from you, still glaring despite the sudden change in atmosphere.

What the fuck.

The room was dead silent except for the pounding of rain against the windows and the low rumble of distant thunder.

“The hell just happened?” you muttered as you took a cautious step forward.

Riki shifted beside you, and you could sense his frustration even in the dark. “Power’s out, obviously” he said dryly, voice tight.

You rolled your eyes, even though he probably couldn’t see it. “I can see that, genius. I meant why? Did the storm knock it out?”

As if to answer your question, another crack of thunder echoed through the room, making the windows shudder slightly. Riki cursed under his breath, and you heard the soft shuffle of his feet as he moved toward the studio door, trying to peer out into the hallway. The emergency lights barely illuminated anything beyond a few feet.

“Wow, this is great,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Stuck here in the dark with you.”

“Believe me, I’m thrilled.” you shot back, folding your arms. The room was already starting to feel colder, the usual heat from the studio fading away now that the power and the heating had gone out.

You both stood there in silence for a moment, the tension from your earlier argument still thick in the air, mixing with the cold that was now creeping up on you. You shivered involuntarily, rubbing your arms to create some warmth. Riki noticed, of course, and it was only a matter of time before he made some snide remark.

“Cold already?” he asked, his voice half teasing, half exasperated. “We’ve only been in the dark for like, two minutes.”

You glared at him, though it was probably wasted in the darkness. “You do realize the heating is out too, right? I’m not some robot who can function in sub zero temperatures like you.”

He scoffed. “Its hardly sub zero.”

But despite his words, you noticed him fidgeting, his hands rubbing up and down his arms, clearly feeling the drop in temperature too.

“Do you think we can get out?” you asked, trying to shift focus to something more practical. “Or are we stuck here until the storm dies down?”

Riki shrugged, though you couldn’t see it, and walked toward the door again, jiggling the handle. “It’s not locked or anything. But it’s pitch black out there. You want to risk tripping over something or getting soaked just to find out?”

You sighed, already tired of his attitude, but knowing you were both stuck in this situation whether you liked it or not. “So what do we do? Just stand here and wait?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” he said, still that sharp edge to his tone.

You could feel your irritation rising again, but you forced yourself to keep it in check. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. There wasn’t much you could do, and the last thing you wanted was to trip over something in the hallway or, worse, get stuck somewhere else in the building where there wasn’t even an emergency light to guide you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, trying to stop shivering, but the cold was quickly seeping into your bones. Riki, ever the stoic, tried to act like it wasn’t affecting him, but you could tell he was getting just as uncomfortable. His usually straight posture was tense, his arms crossed in front of him in an attempt to conserve heat.

“Guess your brilliant plan of staying here all night is coming back to bite you now, huh?” you muttered, unable to resist the jab.

He glared at you, but his usual fire was dulled by the cold and the exhaustion. “You’d rather be out in the storm?”

“No, but I’d rather not freeze to death in here, either.”

Another moment of silence fell between you, only broken by the faint sound of the rain and your collective breaths. The warmth from the earlier workout was long gone, replaced by an uncomfortable chill that made you both painfully aware of just how long you might be stuck here.

Riki sighed, sounding more tired than angry this time. “Look, this sucks. I get it. But what do you want me to do? I didn’t plan for the power to go out.”

You hesitated, surprised by the shift in his tone. He sounded less like the demanding, insufferable person you’d been arguing with for hours, and more like someone who was just as worn out as you were.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, feeling the fight drain out of you. “I just want to go home.”

He didn’t say anything at first, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to snap at you again. But then he sighed, softer this time, and leaned back against the mirrored wall.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, almost like he was talking to himself. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The studio was dead silent except for the pounding rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. You stood there in the dim light, deciding to walk over to the mirror and sit down. Your pulse thudded in your ears, every ragged breath matching the rhythm of the storm outside. You were still fuming, still riding the high of your argument, but now, in the sudden darkness, the energy felt different.

You could barely make out Riki’s shape, the dim glow of the emergency light casting a faint silhouette. He was standing still, breathing just as hard as you, and for once, there wasn’t another snide comment. No sarcasm, no scoff. Just the quiet.

“Well then,” you finally said, voice edged with frustration, “I guess that’s it for now.”

Riki didn’t respond. Instead, you heard the soft shuffle of his body as he walked up to where you were sitting, and dropped down next to you, on your left. His face was still impossible to see, but you could imagine the way his brows were furrowed, the stubborn set of his jaw.

“You were kind of right.” He muttered, and you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to lean into his body warmth.

“Huh?”You respond, a little confused.

“You know,” his voice cut through the silence, lower now, almost thoughtful, “you think I’m doing this just to push you, but… you don’t get it.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in tone. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not pushing you because I want to win.” He turned, facing you now, but still just a shadow against the emergency light. “Well I mean, yeah, I want to win. But I’m pushing you because if I don’t push myself harder, I feel like. Like I’ll lose something.” He paused, the hesitation in his voice something you weren’t used to hearing. “Like if I stop for even a second, I’ll forget why I started.”

The anger in your chest started to cool, replaced by confusion, and maybe something else. “What do you mean?”

There was another pause, longer this time. The tension that had filled the room was still there, but it had shifted. It softened somehow. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Sometimes I’m scared I’m killing it. The passion, I mean. Like, I love this, dancing, performing, but sometimes it feels like the more I do it, the less I feel. Like it’s just becoming something I have to do because it’s expected of me. And I don’t know how to stop that from happening. So I just… keep going.”

You stared at him, the words sinking in. Riki, the guy who never show a moment of weakness, was standing there, admitting he was scared. That he was afraid the very thing he loved the most was slipping away from him.

"I dont wanna end up hating it,” he continued, and his voice cracked just slightly, like he was holding something back. "But I also can’t stop. Because if I stop, then what? Who am I if I’m not good at this? If I’m not the best?"

His words hung heavy in the air, mixing with the sound of rain slamming against the windows and the soft hum of the emergency light. For the first time since you started working together, you felt like you were seeing a different side of him. One that wasn’t full of arrogance or irritation or stubbornness.

You scooted slightly towards him, awkwardly bumping his shoulder against yours, your own frustration slipping away as the storm inside you started to settle and the cold started to dissipate because of his body warmth. “You’re not going to lose it,” you said softly, surprising even yourself with the gentleness in your voice. “You won’t lose the passion. I don’t think its something that just disappears, no matter how hard you push yourself.”

Riki didn’t say anything, but you could see the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly.

“And if it ever does start to feel like that,” you continued, voice steady, “then maybe that’s when you need to take a step back. To breathe. To remind yourself why you love it in the first place. Because, sorry man, but pushing yourself to exhaustion isn’t going to bring that love back. It’s going to make it worse.”

He let out a long breath, leaning against the mirror as if the weight of his thoughts had finally caught up to him. “Maybe.”

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know….. Um. We’re supposed to be a team, Riki. That means you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

He glanced at you through the dim light, his expression hard to read, but something about the way his posture relaxed told you that maybe, he was starting to let his guard down.

"Can I be honest?" you began again, feeling his eyes settle on you in the dim, cold room.

Riki shifted beside you but said nothing, the weight of his earlier confession still hanging between you. You could hear his slow, measured breathing, almost like he was trying to brace himself for whatever you were about to say. The cold air nipped at your skin, the only heat coming from him, but in that moment it was the least of your concerns.

"I never really thought you’d say something like this," you continued, rubbing your arms absentmindedly to keep warm. "I mean, honestly, Riki? For the longest time, I just thought you were like... a complete asshole."

He let out a small, incredulous laugh at your bluntness, but stayed quiet, waiting for you to go on.

"I did!” You insisted, turning to face him more directly. "You always acted so smug. So perfect. Like nothing ever got to you, and you just... ugh, you drove me insane. Every time we had practice it was like you were showing off and I hated it. I hated you. I mean sure, you were talented and yeah, I could obviously see that, but it was like you were purposely rubbing it in everyone’s face."

You could feel his gaze on you, and although it was dark, you imagined his eyes were wide with surprise at your honesty. He probably didnnt expect you to lay it out like this, but after his confession, you felt like the air between you had cleared enough to speak your mind. Plus the cold had numbed your usual hesitancy.

"And okay, maybe I was jealous," you admitted, letting out a breath. "Actually, no, I was jealous. All of the time. Like, it felt like no matter how hard I tried, you’d always be one step ahead. Always better. Always the golden boy or whatever... And it made me hate you more because I felt like I was never good enough compared to you. And then you’d keep pushing and pushing, acting like you didn’t have any limits, and it made me feel even worse. Deadass, how were you not exhausted? How did you keep going without burning out?”

Riki shifted slightly beside you, and you could sense his surprise. But to your shock, he didn’t snap back, didn’t argue. He just listened.

"But I never once considered that you were struggling too," you continued, sighing and your tone softening as your thoughts unraveled. "I just thought you were this unfeeling robot who thrived on outdoing everyone else. I didn’t think about what you were sacrificing, or how it was weighing on you. I guess I never really stopped to think that maybe you were hurting too."

The words hung in the cold air, the silence around you paused only by the sound of rain hitting the windows. The heat was long gone from the room, leaving a biting chill in its place, but your mind was so focused on getting the words out that the cold barely registered.

"I mean, don’t get me wrong," you added, a bit of your usual snark creeping back into your voice. "You are an asshole, like, still. Probably. But now I kinda get it, you know? You’re human. You’re not some perfect machine. And I’m—“ A pause. “I’m glad I got to see that side of you. Because now I think I understand you better."

For a moment the silence stretches out, and you half expect him to snap back with something sarcastic or dismissive, as he usually did. But instead, you feel him move beside you, closer this time, and before you could react Riki’s head softly came to rest on your shoulder.

You stilled for a second, blinking in the dark, unsure of what to do. The warmth of his head against your bare shoulder was a sharp contrast to the cold that seemed to seep into every other part of the room, and the unexpected intimacy of the gesture sent your thoughts spiraling. You had just spent the last few minutes telling him how much you loathed him, and now here he was leaning into you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Errr... what are you doing?" you asked with a voice laced with confusion, though you didn’t make any effort to push him away.

He didn’t lift his head or even glance at you. “It’s cold.” he muttered, almost like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You let out a huff of air of half amusement and half shock. "Okay but— You know tthat this doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t think you’re still lowkey a jerk, right?”

Riki let out a soft laugh, though it was more relaxed this time and less sharp than before. “Yeah, I know.”

You sighed, unsure if you should find this whole situation absurd or oddly... nice? For someone who just confessed how much you couldnt stand him, here you were sitting in the cold with his head on your shoulder, both of you too exhausted to care about maintaining whatever wall had existed between you. Warmth crept up your ears slightly.

“But seriously,” you continued, voice a little quieter now, “I’m glad I saw this side of you. It’s weird... but in a good way. I think I actually— I think I really understand you now. And to be honest, I didn’t even think that was possible."

Riki shifted slightly but didn’t lift his head. “Yeah... me neither,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

Maybe you didn’t really hate the guy as much as you thought. Maybe what you had once called hate was just layers of frustration and misunderstanding, all tangled up in your own jealousy and his annoying perfection. Now, with his head resting on your shoulder and his breaths soft against your neck, the feeling wasn’t something you loathed. In fact, it was kind of comforting.

It made you realize that maybe there was something more to all of this. Beneath the sour conversation, and the constant competition and tension, maybe there was something you hadn’t let yourself see before.

Without thinking much about it, you shifted closer, letting your head rest gently against his. Your arm slowly found its way around his, and instead of pulling back, he stayed there, both of you wrapped up in the quiet, the cold, and each other.

And for the first time, in a long time, you allowed yourself to relax. Your eyes fluttered shut as your breathing synced with his. It was strange how natural it felt, like this had always been there between you two, waiting to be discovered.

You didn’t really hate him. Not anymore.

Flick.

The overhead lights buzzed to life, illuminating the room suddenly, blinding you both. You squinted against the harsh light, feeling Riki stir beside you as you both blinked yourselves awake.

The door to the studio creaked open and Heeseung and Jay walked through it, their faces a mix of confusion & amusement. They both froze at the sight of you two, curled up together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heeseung raised an eyebrow with a smirk already forming on his lips.

“Well, well, well,” Heeseung said, crossing his arms as he took in the scene. “What do we have here?”

Jay, standing beside him, looked equally entertained, though he tried to hide it with a straight face. “Didnt expect to walk in on this.”

You quickly pulled away from Riki, sitting up straighter and blinking in annoyance at the sudden interruption. “Uh…,” you muttered under your breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment creeping up on you.

Riki, on the other hand, rubbed his eyes, looking dazed but clearly embarrassed. “What are you two even doing here?” he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep as he avoided eye contact with his hyungs.

Heeseung chuckled, clearly enjoying this way too much. “We heard the power went out and figured we’d come check on some things. Didn’t want the equipment getting damaged or anything. But...” he gestured to the two of you, “looks like we found something a little more interesting.”

Jay nodded, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, Riki, what are you doing here?”

Riki groaned, clearly regretting ever opening his mouth. “Just... we were practicing late, okay? And the power went out, and, uh.” he glanced at you, unsure how to explain the rest. “It’s not what you might think it is.”

“Oh sure,” Heeseung said and winked. “Totally.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself to your feet and stretching out the stiffness from being curled up on the floor for so long. “Can we not do this right now? It’s late, and I just want to go home.”

Jay grinned, tossing you his jacket. “Alright lovebirds. Let’s go. We’ll drive you both home before this gets any more awkward.”

Riki shot them a look, his cheeks tinted pink as he grabbed his things. “God, I hate you guys.”

“Nah, you love us.” Heeseung corrected, as the four of you walked out into the chilly night, leaving the studio (and whatever had just happened) behind.

note : thank you for reading!! as always comments and feedback are always appreciated :) fyi i got a little lazy towards the end so sorry if it stops making sense halfway through or if i didn’t bother to proof check correctly 😭😭

[dreamwithlost]

DIABOLICAMENTE ANGELICAL

❝Seu colega de trabalho era odiavel, ao menos era o que achava, até o dia que ele apareceu com o famoso cabelo platinado de protagonista 2D❞

Jaehyun x Fem!Reader

Gênero: Enemies to lovers, fluffy

W.C: 1K

ᏪNotas: Assim como a prota tenho um fraco por personagem padrão de cabelo branco, então depois do meu surto com o Jaehyun, precisei escrever essa. Boa leitura meus amores ♡

Jaehyun era uma das pessoas mais bonitas que você já havia visto. Odiava admitir isso sobre seu colega de trabalho folgado e irritante, mas era a verdade. Seus lábios estavam sempre ocupados, falando alguma besteira e atazanando seus ouvidos na loja de discos antigos, como um diabinho no seu ombro. A beleza diabolicamente angelical dele era algo que você poderia suportar, se não fosse por aquele fatídico dia.

— Está atrasado — Você reclamou, enquanto reorganizava algumas fileiras de discos, quando a porta se destrancou e o sino anunciou a chegada do pior funcionário do mês. — Saiba que...

Puta merda.

Olhar para Jaehyun travou todo o seu sistema nervoso. A luz da manhã refletia em seus ombros largos, e suas madeixas recém-descoloridas contrastavam com o sobretudo preto, que era a única proteção contra o clima gélido. Agora, ele parecia angelicamente diabólico.

— Eu sei, eu sei, vou ficar até mais tarde — Ele retrucou, revirando os olhos e jogando sua bolsa na velha cadeira perto da porta. Normalmente, você faria uma piada sobre alguém acabar roubando aquele item, mas não conseguia pensar em nada naquele momento.

Jaehyun passou por você, indo em direção ao caixa, e suas bochechas ruborizaram como se você tivesse quinze anos novamente. Era como voltar às suas paixonites por personagens de madeixas platinadas, amor que ainda permanecia extremamente forte, especialmente porque hoje você vestia uma camiseta do Gojo de Jujutsu Kaisen.

— Se atrasou por causa desse ninho de passarinho? — Surpreendentemente, sua boca ainda conseguiu fazer uma brincadeira enquanto seus sentidos tentavam se normalizar.

— Hm? — Jaehyun murmurou, passando uma das mãos no cabelo com um sorriso travesso. — Eu sei que você gostou.

— Não vi grande diferença.

Você deu de ombros, fingindo voltar a organizar os discos, mesmo já tendo terminado. Mesmo assim ainda sentiu os passos dele se aproximando e a feição travessa queimando suas costas.

— Pelo menos meu cabelo não tá manchado — Ele sussurrou cantarolando, passando por você novamente e deixando alguns fones sobre as mesas de teste.

Você instintivamente alisou seu cabelo, lembrando do último resquício de tinta vermelha que ainda permanecia, uma prova das suas experiências capilares às três da manhã. Nunca gostou de ir ao cabeleireiro; preferia cuidar das madeixas em casa, algo que às vezes dava certo, e outras, era um arsenal para Jaehyun.

— Pelo menos ele é bem hidratado, o seu deve estar só a palha — Você tentou revidar.

— Osh, filha, você tá com inveja! — O mais alto disse, virando-se para você com uma indignação exagerada, balançando o cabelo tal qual uma diva pop.

Foi impossível para você não rir com a cena.

— Ala! Quase não mexe! — Você zombou, apontando para o Jeong como uma criança.

Não esperava que ele levasse a crítica tão a sério, agarrando seu pulso e fazendo sua mão acariciar o topo de sua cabeça. Você ficou sem palavras por alguns segundos, sentindo os dedos deslizando pelos fios sedosos, sedentos para fazer um cafuné naquela pequena amostra de neve.

— Viu? Sedozinho — Jaehyun se vangloriou.

— Pior que tá mesmo — Jaehyun não segurava mais seu pulso, mas seus pensamentos intrusivos dominavam sua mente, e sua mão continuou ali, agora, acariciando algumas vezes o cabelo do rapaz que estava levemente inclinado para baixo.

E, assim como aquela ação repentina veio, foi embora. Você se afastou rapidamente, corando intensamente. Pigarreou algumas vezes, torcendo para que ele não achasse a cena tão estranha quanto havia sido, e principalmente para que seu cérebro deletasse aquele momento. O que estava pensando? Era... só o Jaehyun, o odiavelmente belo Jaehyun.

— Acho que não ficou tão ruim assim, você até tá vermelha — Jaehyun não deixou passar em branco, sorrindo provocadoramente enquanto se aproximava novamente.

Você, nervosa, bateu em uma das estantes de disco, assustando-se com o barulho e corando ainda mais de vergonha.

— Deixa de ser besta, Jaehyun — tentou manter a postura, olhando descontroladamente ao redor. — Vai trabalhar.

Surpreendentemente, ele realmente se afastou, indo até o caixa pegar alguns itens que estavam guardados no balcão. O silêncio entre vocês se tornou quase palpável, interrompido apenas pelo tilintar dos discos.

— Eu pintei por sua causa — Jaehyun disse após alguns minutos, com a calma mais absurda do mundo, enquanto organizava coisas que claramente não precisavam de arrumação.

Você, por outro lado, finalmente tomou coragem para encara-lo, surpresa com a confissão.

— Você disse uma vez que era gamadinho por personagens de cabelo branco.

— Talvez — Você repetiu, tentando manter o tom leve, mas seu coração acelerava.

Jaehyun parou de organizar o grande vazio e levantou os olhos, o sorriso ladino se ampliando.

— Então, se eu sou um personagem agora, você precisa ser a protagonista da minha história.

— É, mas você é o vilão — Você respondeu, forçando um tom desdenhoso, mas a provocação deixou uma ponta de desejo no ar.

— Vilão ou herói, quem se importa? O importante é que estou aqui, e você também — Ele deu a volta pelo balcão, se aproximando de você mais uma vez, seus olhos pareciam um imã fixados nos seus.

— Ah, não venha com essa! — Você desviou o olhar, tentando disfarçar a crescente atração, talvez fosse acabar infartando ali mesmo. — Isso não faz sentido.

— Faz sim — Ele disse, inclinando-se um pouco, provocando uma onda de calor no seu rosto. — No fundo, você adora minha companhia, mesmo me odiando.

— Odiar é uma palavra forte — Acabou confessando, sem conseguir evitar o sorriso que surgia.

— Então, que tal a gente testar? Um encontro, só para ver quem realmente odeia quem? — A proposta saiu de seus lábios como uma provocação, mas você sentiu que havia um toque de sinceridade.

— Um encontro? E se eu não voltar? — Você brincou, cruzando os braços.

— Aí eu vou ter certeza de que sou irresistível. — Ele piscou, e você riu, odiava quando ele a fazia rir, era tão bom.

Você hesitou, sabendo que havia algo entre vocês que ia além de todas essas desavenças fingidas.

— Tudo bem, eu aceito. Mas não espere que eu vá facilitar as coisas.

— Eu gosto de desafios. — Ele sorriu, mais confiante. — E pode apostar que não vou deixar você escapar tão fácil, literalmente pintei o cabelo pra isso.

Empurrou o rapaz para longe, em um tom de brincadeira, e fingiu voltar ao seu trabalho. Você precisou se controlar naquele momento para não elevar ainda mais o ego do platinado ao dizer que: teria aceitado sair com ele não importava a cor de seu cabelo.

Ele já era, no fim, um personagem: o bonitinho sarcástico.

[bear-tr4p]

cant get over the gay little sparkle in strahms eyes whenever hes talking about hoffman…

[save-the-data]

Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart! | S01E03

Thai Drama - 2024, 12 episodes

Native Title: #Jack & Joker ทำไมต้องเป็นเธอทุกที

Genres: #LGBTQ+ 

Tags: #Enemies to Lovers | #Love/Hate Relationship | #Partners in Crime

Cast: #War Wanarat | #Yin Anan Wong | #Mark Siwat | #Prom Ratchapat #Bonz Nadol

Links:  GAGA | Viki | YouTube | iQIYI | WeTV | Youku | Tencent

Catalog: Episode GIF sets | Thai BL | Thai Drama

[hiacinthh]

gay toxic ship, lets go

[deeeaahh]

"Find a man who'd die for you"

But I want a man who'd live for me. who goes on with the day because he wants to spend time with me, spend the rest of his life with me. find a man who'd live for you, who'd do anything to be with you. who'd live to see your face every morning and night. who'd jump through hoops just to spend the rest of his life with you.

[tenderplayed]

Adam; the infatuated poet

It's the 90's in south france, Adam's a poet and the new English teacher who has a rivarly and a bordeline obsessive crush on you.

Tags/trigger warnings: Dark content, rivals academic, stalking, period-typical sexism, french reader.

A/N: this is my oc, so do not repost neither translate this. Minors do not interact.

| Masterlist | Patreon | TikTok |

About the character

He was the new English teacher in a small town in the south France.  A tall and good-looking man who wears glasses and smiles at everyone but you.

At first, he felt a bit threatened by you, you were as good as a teacher as him. Everyone in college loved you, a little too much for his like.

But it wasn’t until you both started bickering that he got fixated on you. He started to bully you secretly so no one will notice, with passive aggressive comments towards you. But to his surprise, you -the nice and sweet teacher- have it in you to fight back.

He gets annoyed by your smartass remarks towards him. You were special in the town. You're like the woman he wishes to marry one day, one who’s sweet, nice, pretty and wrapped in an angelic aura. You have all those good qualities, but you’re too independent and talk back to any man who do as much as provoke you, and that made him feel pissed. He wanted to put you in your place, tired of hearing your sweet voice calling him sexist jerk in French.

“Don’t be angry at me for telling the truth, you’ll die alone and with cats if you keep this arrogant attitude,” he mocked with mirth shining through his glasses. He receives the reaction he expected when you narrowed your pretty eyes with crossed arms. He loved to irritate you and to see those eyes full of flames and passion every time you tried to put him on his place.

His secret and confusing infatuation towards you only growth each day, like a beast feeding from flesh, with claws clinging to its prey.

Then he started to follow you, sometimes he watched your small flat from across the street. And how you brush your long hair in front of your vanity mirror.

He felt angry by his own feelings, he wanted to hate you but he couldn’t. You were too pretty, the woman of his fantasies, but you were also too rebel for his liking.

What will he do with you? Perhaps… stalk you until he figures you out, and changes your liberal beliefs.

After all you belong to him, under him, with him and for him only.

His thoughts were all consuming, you were the object of his obsession. He writes and writes about you, and he thought it was a good idea to send you those anonymous letters under the door of your flat. But your pretty and curious smile fell the next months, when his obsession and letters turned rather creepy.

And he kind of liked it, your scared wide eyes staring around you with fear, gripping the door handle with a trembling hand. It made something heavy and hot knot in his belly, he wanted to see that pretty expression one more time, so he could protect you from any danger -including him-. Your vulnerable face only deepened his dark desires.

One night he broke in your house, pissed at you for not being more careful and lock the door. It's good that you have him to protect you, after all he was way too possessive over the things he loves.

You were humming sweetly in your kitchen, wearing a dress shirt a bit too big for you, with the skin of your left shoulder exposed. He breathes deep, trying to calm himself down. He wanted to be a gentleman but you made it very difficult to him.

He stopped behind you, and watched the moment you freeze feeling a strange presence on your back, ready to scream and run but he was quicker than you, covering your mouth roughly, wrapping his other arm around your waist to pull your back against him. He buried his nose on the skin of your neck, sniffing and feeling its warmth.

“Fucking still,” he warned lowly against your ear when he felt you wiggling in his grip. The half of his face was covered by a dark mask, and his black cap hide his gaze.

He shushed you gently when he felt your tears streaming from your eyes, roaming his hand and feeling the skin of your belly under your shirt. He caressed it slowly, you were trapped and covered by his tall frame, feeling asphyxiated.

You listened to his shallow breaths behind you, and how his grip on your body was constrain, scaring you even more. And to your horror, you noticed how he pull down his mask to run his lips on your neck, lapping your jaw slowly like a thirsty dog.

You were trapped by this man, gripping tightly the edge of the counter. You narrowed your eyes to see his face through the reflection of the window.

But he didn't let you.

Read part II here.

[blergarfvader]

A compilation of Qimir saying Osha's name. We need to see the reciprical when she finally learns his

[foolishlovers]

lips don't lie by foolishlovers (E, 12.7k, complete)

All Crowley wants is to shed her reputation as the go-to actress for bland romance films, but her long-standing rivalry with Aziraphale, the industry’s most beloved darling, always gets in the way. When both are invited to an exclusive lipstick launch, tensions boil over. As if facing Aziraphale wasn’t enough, a meddling reporter seems determined to ruin Crowley’s night as well. Surely, an angel with crimson lips could not possibly be the one to turn things around... right?

[the-ellia-west]

hey i’m aro/ace and saw your post on writing romance and it was really helpful,,, but do you have any tips for writing enemies to lovers? mostly enemies-allies-lovers pipeline

Oh Absolutely! Thank you so much for the ask, love!

How to Write Enemies to Lovers for Dummies

Alrighty! So, the key to Enemies to Lovers is Banter. They need to be the type of Enemies to trash talk each other

Before we begin here's some fun psychology facts that make Enemies to Lovers even more fun!

1. If you think someone is hot, you can't/don't actually hate them

2. The opposite of love is indifference not hate (use these as you will)

Anywayssss

Step one!

Writing Enemies to Lovers is the same as normal except that you add on the extra step of them being enemies first, adding more drama and banter throughout

So, you have to make them enemies, naturally. Figure out why they're enemies, why they would specifically hate each other instead of someone else.

Step two

Preferably, make it personal.

Make their arguments and fights feel more like they're fighting each other, and not the actual battle if they're in opposing organizations or something

Step three

Close proximity

Now that you've established how they usually act around each other and their usual banter, find some way to force them into close proximity.

Like one switches sides and the other is now their boss, they're kidnapped together, their bosses go missing, ect.

In close proximity, you want to jeep their former dynamic, but it slowly turns at the least, a bit more polite because they have to work together

(Think about how they'll try to undermine and push each other away according to their personality and morals - but of course make sure it doesn't work and they're still stuck together)

Step four

Give them a 'maybe we could have been friends' moment

Like have them look at each other after a while and go: 'maybe you're not so bad.'

Any of these variations

Step five

Make them talk

Eventually, your characters will be alone together, and they have to talk.

(It's best if one or both of them are in an emotionally vulnerable state)

One of them can ask the other a strangely nice or vulnerable question, they can tell them something, anything really

Examples: 'Have you ever thought about dying?', 'do you ever miss home?', 'you know... I always thought you were better than me.'

Step six

Have them be slightly more compatable by having them voluntarily work together, like coworkers or comrades rather than friends

Step seven

The friends stage

Have them be more friendly and trusting, partners in crime, good friends, and have that slowly develop (make sure to keep their trademark banter throughout)

Whatever level of friends, whether it be aforementioned partners in crime, kinda friends, normal friends, best friends, ect.

Step Seven

The falling for them

Then we develop the crush and eventually fall in love, *refer back to my other post*

[mosquego359]

One Kiss and a Quidditch Match — Prologue

Pair: Cedric Diggory x Male Slytherin Reader

Word count: 717 words

Summary of the book: You and Cedric Diggory hate each other. It has always been this way. But everything changes one night when you kiss each other at a party. Now, it seems you can’t escape each other — from being partnered up in Herbology for an important project to having to help Cedric during the Triwizard Tournament.

Summary of the chapter: Before the Quidditch Match of 1990-1991, you and Cedric never talked, never acknowledged each other's presence. But because of that loss, he hated you.

Notes: This is my first Cedric fanfic so please forgive me for any OOC moments. Also, I've changed a few things about Hogwarts like adding a couple extra holidays and new locations such as the all houses lobby on the first floor where everyone can hang out.

Content warning: There is nothing in this chapter but there is violence and cursing in the rest of the book. I may also write a few sexual scenes if people request it.

!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDITS TO ME!

...

Cedric hated you. And thus, you hated him.

It was like an endless circle of hatred; one cannot hate without the other, just as flowers cannot live without bees and vice versa. Every glare from his end was met by a cocky victory smirk from you whenever your team won a quidditch game, and every time he scored a point higher than you during a test, he would flaunt his success while you would grind your teeth in frustration.

It wasn’t always this competitive. In fact, before your 2nd year, he never talked to you and you barely knew he existed. In the past, you were ghosts, walking past one another without glare or snarky remarks.

That all changed when Slytherin was up against Hufflepuff in the 1990-1991 Hogwarts’ Quidditch Tournament. At the time, Cedric had been assigned as a backup whenever the Keeper got hurt, since the team was unaware of his flying talent.

Near three quarters through the game, the current Keeper, a 6th year called Richard Chiswick, was hit by a particularly violent Bludger (no doubt a Slytherin cast a spell on it) and was forced to sit out for the rest of the match, while Cedric replaced him.

He was by no means an excellent Keeper, but he wasn’t necessarily bad either — quick reactions and a keen eye were a superb advantage for him as a Quidditch player — but one Slytherin always managed to slip in a goal even when his concentration was at its highest.

You, the prodigy Slytherin Chaser. The one who had been scoring point after point for your team. You were incredible.

You would zoom in the air, dodging Hufflepuff after Hufflepuff, Quaffle tucked under your arm. Soaring across the field, you were beauty, you were grace, and you would “accidentally” kick players in the face.

Every time you had the Quaffle, ready to make a goal, Cedric would tense up, ready to block any and all of your attacks. You were, however, much too rapid for him, so whenever you would try and score a goal unless your aim was wack, you’d constantly grant your team those 10 glorious points. He was baffled at your capabilities, never expecting someone the same age as him to have so much raw talent. Or was it just that you already knew how to play?

An hour in, Slytherin were 150 points ahead of Hufflepuff, standing at almost 400 points and you had the Quaffle. The Hufflepuff Seeker had spotted the Snitch and was racing against time to snatch it out of the air and deprive you of the 10 points that would mark Slytherin’s victory.

The Seeker was mere inches away from ending the game but you were quicker — swiftly launching the Quaffle, the spherical object curving through the air. 

Cedric desperately raced to stop it, extending his arm to block it but either he was too late or miscalculated the trajectory — the ball whooshed past him and into the goal area. 

Not even a second later, the Hufflepuff Seeker caught the Golden Snitch.

It was over; the game was over. Slytherin won by 10 points and it was Cedric’s fault. All his fault, just because he couldn’t block that stupid Quaffle!

The Chasers on his team scored 230 points total and the seeker had caught the Snitch but despite all that effort, they still lost. Because of him…

The next few moments were a blur of reassurances from his teammates, booing from most of the crowd, and a booming echo of cheers from the winning house’s spectators. Cedric wasn’t focused on any of those distractions, though; all he could see was you.

A big, goofy grin was spread across your sweaty face, gums showing and teeth not touching. You were out of breath and surrounded by a sea of Slytherins — particularly younger students — laughing and hugging you, some jumping with joy and others slinging their arms around your shoulders or patting your back in congratulation.

A cold feeling enveloped Cedric’s typically good-natured heart. He hated you. He hated you for that win, for making him seem incapable, and for looking so happy about it. 

A fire in his soul ignited. He wanted to crush you, squash whatever pride you would ever have and wipe that annoying smile off your face.

...

Thank you for reading, please comment any suggestions you have or any issues I should fix.

[fenolunddraws]

Get It Together Nav!

Here, Harrow ever-so-lovingly reprimands Gideon.

This is an imagined scene in the depths of Drearburh during the 3 months training of the new cavalier primary, during which Harrow made an appearance, distinctly lacking the voluminous robes of her office. She brought with her several bone constructs for an impromptu test of Gideon's swordsmanship. While Gideon did manage to fend off a few skeletons despite being outnumbered, it was not to Harrow's satisfaction.

Truthfully, Harrow did have to exert herself more than she needed to in the duel she had rigged leading up to Gideon's cavalier training, but she would never admit this.